


A Ghoul and a Vault Dweller Walk into a Bar

by ViewFromTheVault



Series: The Woman Out of Time [1]
Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Alcohol, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Blood and Gore, Canon Divergence, F/M, First Meetings, I'm Bad At Tagging, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Mild Gore, Multi, One Shot, i guess??
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-13
Updated: 2019-05-13
Packaged: 2020-03-02 09:46:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18808672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ViewFromTheVault/pseuds/ViewFromTheVault
Summary: Waking up shaking from a nightmare, Phoebe Spencer steps out of the Hotel Rexford for some air and witnesses Mayor Hancock ease the town's fears after an alleged Institute infiltration. The mayor then invites Phoebe to share a drink with him at the Third Rail where the two get acquainted with one another.





	A Ghoul and a Vault Dweller Walk into a Bar

Nate leaned over the edge of the crib. “Hey there, little man! Pheebs, he’s looking at me. Yes, hello!” The baby boy gurgled and wrapped his pudgy hand around Nate’s pointer finger. Nate started pulling funny faces trying to make him laugh. Shaun just stared up at him with eyes as big as tea saucers.

“Who is that goofy looking guy, huh?” Phoebe said as she stood next to Nate. Shaun swiveled his head in the direction of her voice. She beamed down at him and stroked his cheek.

“It’s Daddy, of course. Right Shaun?” Nate cooed. “Can you say Daddy? _Dad-dee?_ ”

“Nate, he’s only two months old.”

“Yeah, but he could be one of those really smart babies, right Shaunster? Are you a baby genius? Tell Mom how you’re gonna be a scientist when you get big. Can you say _si-yen-tist?_ ”

Phoebe playfully nudged Nate with her elbow and he laughed. He brought his arm around her, drawing her close. “God, he’s perfect,” he said.

Phoebe rested her head on his shoulder and hummed.

“Just like his mama.”

“Ah, still making the jokes, I see?”

Nate made to reply when the sound of jets drifted into the room. “Sorry to intrude, Sir, Mum,” Codsworth said bobbing his front ocular receptor, “but there’s someone waiting at the door for you.”

“Alright, thanks, Codsworth,” Nate said. He turned back to Phoebe and gave her a peck on the temple and tickled Shaun’s belly before leaving the room. A foul odor wafted about Phoebe’s nose. Shaun kicked out his legs and began to fuss.

“Tut, tut, looks like someone made a stinky!” the Mister Handy announced as he floated further into the room. “I’ll take it from here, Mum.”

Phoebe nodded a “Thank you” and gave Shaun’s hand a little squeeze before moving out of the robot’s way. It still felt strange for her to just let a robot take care of that kind of stuff for them, though she really couldn’t complain. Codsworth was surprisingly good at diaper duty. Better than she or Nate were.

She slipped out of the bedroom and began walking down the short hallway of their home while she hummed a little tune to herself. She could hear Nate talking with someone, but she couldn’t make out who. It seemed as though Nate didn’t know who it was either as a tone of confusion rang in his voice. Then,

_Bang!_

The sound made Phoebe jump. For a moment she stood stiff, too paralyzed to move. And then she heard Nate groan.

She hurried into the living room where Nate stood doubled over clutching his chest. He staggered back from the door and the strange man looming over him, Phoebe running to catch him as he fell. She wasn’t prepared to take all his weight and tumbled. When they landed Nate’s head fell back and he coughed, blood spurting from his lips. Crimson spread from his chest, staining his white T-shirt. A lump of ice formed in her stomach.

“Oh my god, Nate!” Phoebe cried as she reached around and pressed her hands over the bullet hole on his chest. Blood gushed passed her fingers and ice spread throughout her veins. Nate tried speaking to her, but all that came through were chokes and sputters, his brown eyes bulging.

“Shhh, it’s going to be okay, you’re going to be okay,” Phoebe said, trying and failing to keep her voice even. “Codsworth! Codsworth call an ambule-”

The man stepped over the threshold and grabbed Phoebe by the throat. “Ah, ah, we’ll be having none of that,” he said in a deep voice.

Phoebe’s entire body went rigid, trapped under Kellogg’s soulless stare. His skin was whiter than the wall paper behind him and had sunken in around dark eye sockets. Dried blood from the gaping hole in the left side of his head caked his face and neck. From the hole she could see what was left of his brain. It resembled a deflated balloon made of meat, milky white liquid oozed from holes made from the maggots burrowing in and out. Bits of metal and wire outlets poked from a section that had sunken in.

Nate gurgled again before going still in her lap. She tried screaming for Codsworth, but the grip on her throat tightened and made her choke. Why wasn’t Codsworth coming to help her? Did he not hear the gunshot? Her screaming?

“Hope you found what you were looking for inside my head,” Kellogg said. His breath smelled like old cigars and rot.

He hefted her off the floor, Nate’s body sliding off her legs and falling limply to the tile under her dangling feet. She grabbed at the hand around her neck in attempt to loosen its hold and her bloodied hands slipped on cold hard metal. Looking down she realized the swollen flesh had melted away, revealing a skeletal robotic hand. Kellogg’s eyes flashed yellow and his skin hung awkwardly on his face. He brought his free hand up and dug his nails into the tissue. It pulled away leaving sticky strands like melted caramel and uncovered grubby grey silicon beneath. Metal teeth grinned up at her. Tears warped her vision.

“Now it’s my turn to fuck around in yours,” Nick Valentine said to her.

He brought the barrel of his pistol to the underside of her jaw.

_Bang!_

Phoebe cried out and flew forward, sitting bolt upright and clutching at her neck. The hand wasn’t on her throat anymore, but the feeling of it was still there. She rubbed at the gunk buildup in her eyes and blinked away the colorful spots in her vision.

Where was she? She needed to see where she was.

The dark room slowly came into focus. She was tangled in sheets on top a tattered queen size bed. The wood of the footboard gouged and carved up with names and obscene phrases and the frame groaned under her quivering form. A rusted candle holder fossilized in melted wax sat on the bedside table next to her Pip-Boy. Through the gloom she could make out a broken dresser, a wardrobe missing a door, and a sagging antique sofa. Her memory roused from its slumber. She was in the Hotel Rexford, or at least what had remained of it.

Phoebe drew her knees to her chest and ran shaking hands over the goosebumps on her arms. Her T-shirt clung to her body with sweat. The skin on her scalp prickled and she pushed her fingers through her hair. She felt hot and cold all over. Another wave of shakes bristled through her and she curled into a ball and rocked back and forth.

_A dream, that’s all it was. Just another horrible, terrifyingly real-feeling dream._

A part of her scoffed at the thought. As if telling herself not to worry had ever actually worked before now.

Sounds of people talking floated through the broken window. It sounded like a crowd had gathered on the street below. Reaching out for her Pip-Boy and turning on the screen told Phoebe that it was ten minutes passed three in the morning.

“The witching hour,” as her dad used to say around campfires at night. When all the wicked creatures wreaked havoc and preyed on little kids caught out of bed. Those stories of his used to scare her so bad she would burrow into her sleeping bag and pretend not to hear twigs snapping outside the tent. Nowadays, however, if you ignored the sounds you ended up dead or worse. From the commotion outside, it definitely sounded like a malevolent spirit had caused a stir in Goodneighbor.

Phoebe sighed, rubbing her hands down her face. As much as she didn’t want to be out there by herself, sleep was far from her and the moldy air was making her nauseous. She thought to perhaps see if she could find Nick so she would at least be with someone she knew, then the face of the dream Nick appeared in her mind’s eye, face twisted into a wicked grin as he held her by the neck over her dead husb-

_No! Stop thinking about it! It wasn’t real._

Stuffing the disturbing imagery into the bowels of her mind, Phoebe detangled herself from the bedsheets and swung her legs over the side, sliding her feet into her old hiking boots. She turned the Pip-Boy flashlight on and bathed the room in a white glow. Pushing up from the bed and crossing over to the washstand, she held the light up to the mirror to examine her throat. There was no bruising that she could see, though she really ought to have known that already. She looked up at her knotted brown hair and thought for a second about brushing it, then figured people would bother her less if she looked like she had crawled out of a dumpster.

Moving to the chair that held her backpack, she pulled out a faded green flannel shirt and put her arms through the sleeves leaving it unbuttoned over her T-shirt. She then fished out a can of purified water and cracked it open, downing it in one go. It helped ease the tightness in her throat, but not by much. She needed cleaner air. Deciding not to give anyone a reason to try to mug her for the second time, she switched the Pip-Boy light off and shoved the device into her backpack.

The door creaked as she poked her head out into the hallway. All was silent save for the sounds of a couple one door down and across from her immensely enjoying each other’s company. She stepped into the hallway and closed the door quietly behind her. Keeping her footsteps light, she hurried passed the couple’s door with her hands plastered over her ears.

The common area at the end of the hallway looked empty until Phoebe spotted the top of Nick Valentine’s hat poking out from behind a high-backed armchair. “Nick?” she said in a hushed voice. No answer. She rounded over to the front of the chair and called his name again, yielding the same result as before. He was slouched back in the chair with his hat pulled over his eyes.

Phoebe cocked her head, furrowing her brow. _I thought he said he didn’t sleep._ She bent down to his level, slowly raising the brim of his hat and nearly jumping out of her skin. His eyes were wide open.

She was about to apologize for bothering him until she realized he hadn’t so much as moved. Waving her hands inches from his nose warranted no reaction either. It was then she remembered him telling her that he was going to run a diagnostic after they had left the Memory Den.

The Memory Den. Time for Phoebe to tuck that happy little experience far back into her brain where she wouldn’t worry about it for a while.

She brought the brim back down over his eyes and tiptoed away from the synth to keep from waking him. _Can you even wake a synth when they’re running diagnostics?_ she thought as she descended the stairs down into the hotel lobby, flashing a quick smile at Clair Hutchins. The desk clerk just snorted and went back to organizing room keys. Crossing the lobby to the old double doors, Phoebe grasped the tarnished handles and pulled them open, welcoming the crisp night air that rushed passed her with a sigh.

She stepped away from the doors and leaned against the cool brick wall. The street was dimly lit with oil lamps and several burning trash cans. Drifters draped in oversized coats and tattered blankets huddled together under small shacks and lean-tos made of scrap. The Commonwealth was starting to warm considerably in mid May, though the nights were still a little on the chilly side, not that she minded it.

She looked over to her left and saw people gathered around something that looked to be laying on the asphalt. Nervous chatter filled the square. Her ears pricked when she heard the words “institute” and “synth.” Two Neighborhood Watchmen, one a ghoul, the other a smoothskin, hollered for people to clear out. One shoved back a bald man wearing shades and Phoebe caught a glimpse of a hand laying limp on the ground. She wondered if that last gunshot she heard in her dream was even part of the dream at all.

“Alright, break it up!” someone shouted from across the street. The nattering subsided almost instantly.

Phoebe followed the crowd’s gaze and her heart jumped. Sauntering across the pavement was Goodneighbor’s own mayor, crimson coattails flowing behind him as he moved. He was flanked by the woman in painted metal armour whom Phoebe saw him with earlier. People cleared a path for him as he approached, not in fear she noticed, but more out of respect. A couple of drifters even removed their hats.

Now that people had moved Phoebe could see what it was that had gotten them riled up. A man looking to be in his early to mid twenties lay motionless on his stomach, blood pooling around his body. His head lay in her direction and he stared at her blankly, mouth slightly open. Nate’s face appeared, liquid scarlet cascading from his lips as he stared up at her in pure ter-

_NO._

“Looks like that scavver, Sammy,” the armoured woman said, bringing Phoebe back to the real world. “He lived around here.”

Hancock tore his gaze from the body and looked between the two Watchmen. “Care to explain to me what the fuck happened?”

“The Institute’s got to poor ol’ Sammy,” the smoothskinned Watchmen said. “Snatched ‘em up and spat out a copy.”

“And what, pray tell, lead you to this conclusion?”

“He wasn’t acting himself, see?” the ghoul Watchmen chipped in. “Was like a different person wearin’ Sammy’s face. Said we wanted to ask him some questions and he pulled a gun on us.”

The mayor rubbed his chin. “When was the last any o’ you seen him before now?” he asked.

“‘Bout two days ago,” said the first Watchmen. “Said he was headed to the CIT ruins. There was supposed to be valuable junk lying around the place.”

“I see, at any rate, the only way we know the truth is to have the doc open him up,” said Hancock. “You two take him down to Amari.”

The Watchmen uttered compliance and bent over the body, grabbing the supposed Sammy imposter under his armpits and around his ankles. “Oh god, what am I gonna tell his mother?” the ghoul Watchmen mumbled just loud enough for Phoebe to hear.

Hancock heard him too. “Hopefully, for your sake, that you didn’t just kill her boy for having an off day,” he said.

Once the body disappeared behind the Memory Den’s doors, the square erupted into a frenzy of questions. “What does this mean, Hancock?” asked one bystander. “Are we not safe anymore?” said another.

“Okay, let us all just calm down,” said the mayor, raising his hands. “The only way The Man’s gonna get to us is if we let him. We lose our shit now and turn on each other, he’ll pick us off one by one. We’re much harder to hurt when we stick together, ya dig? From now on, no smoothskin, ghoul, robot and whatever the hell in between gets left behind. Look out for your neighbor and they’ll do the same for you. And steer clear of the CIT ruins. Make myself clear?”

Subdued murmurs bubbled about the group, making Hancock shake his head. “C’mon, folks. An attitude like that means the Institute’s already won. Tell ya what, how’s about we all head to the Rail and have a drink in honor of Sammy, give the poor fucker a proper Goodneighbor send off? First round’s on me.”

Cheers filled the square and the crowd began to disperse toward the bar. Hancock signaled to a trio of drifters. “Clean up this mess and it’s ten caps for each of ya,” he said pointing to the puddle of blood.

Phoebe watched the drifters trip over one another looking for scrub brushes as the mayor turned back to the armoured woman. She must have been his second in command.

“Two deaths in one day, what would you rank that as, Fahr?” he inquired.

“Well, considering the motive for one of them was to impress some doughy-eyed waster, and carried out by you, I’d say it’s nothing to write home about,” she said flatly.

_Is she referring to me?_

The woman’s eyes suddenly locked onto Phoebe. “Speaking of,” she said jutting her chin making Hancock turn to look.

_Oh jeeze, she is._

The mayor turned to face her completely and flashed her a smile and a nod. Phoebe looked away, her face feeling a little warm. When she looked back her heart leaped into her throat as she watched the pair approach.

“Well, you’re the last person I expected to see out and about at this ungodly hour,” Hancock mused. “Couldn’t sleep through the night’s events, Sister?”

Phoebe glanced at the drifters scrubbing the pavement before replying. “I guess you could say that,” she said, “among other things.” She looked back to the pair and noticed they were both watching her intently; the woman looked her up and down as if sizing up a cut of meat. Hancock’s gaze, on the other hand, seemed as though he were trying to find the solution to a puzzle. Phoebe cleared her throat. “I don’t think I got your name,” she said to the woman.

“That’s because I never gave it to you, little Pawn,” she woman said, her voice so sharp it could cut throats. Her entire appearance screamed “mess with me and they won’t find your body” from the tips of her spiked steel toes to the top of her half-shaved head. Her impressive height certainly added to the intimidation as well, she could loom over anyone she wanted. She towered over Hancock, who looked to be about two inches shorter than Phoebe, but that didn’t make him any less dangerous. That Finn fellow could attest to that… were he still alive.

“C’mon, Fahr, she only asked for your name,” Hancock chided. “This here’s Fahrenheit, head of the Neighborhood Watch and part-time babysitter.” Fahrenheit rolled her eyes at the last title.

“Nice to meet you,” Phoebe said with a small smile.

Fahrenheit scoffed. “Yeah. I got rounds to make,” she said to Hancock before turning and stalking away.

Hancock laughed and stuffed his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “Chock full of sugar sweetness, that one.”

“I guess that depends on what one considers sweet these days,” Phoebe said.

“Yeah, ain’t that the truth,” he said. He went back to working on his puzzle and Phoebe suddenly wished she hadn’t decided not to brush her hair. “You’re looking like you got too big a shit pile and too small a shovel,” he finally said. “You feel like washing some of that away with some booze?”

Phoebe blinked dumbly at the proposition. _Did he just ask me if I wanted a drink? Why on earth would he want one with me?_ “Oh, uh, thank you for the offer, but I really shouldn’t,” she stuttered.

“You sure? It’d be my treat,” said the ghoul.

“Oh no, it’s fine, really. I couldn’t ask you to do that for me. Besides it sounds like you’ve got quite the tab tonight already.”

The ghoul nodded, looking down at his boots then back up at her. “Alright, no problem. Perhaps another time then, yeah?”

All she could offer was an apologetic smile. He tipped his tricorn and began walking to the Third Rail. Phoebe watched him go, twisting the corners of her flannel shirt in her hands. Her eyes panned across the square, then over to the doors of the Rexford. She still didn’t like the thought of hanging out here by herself, especially since she realized she had forgotten to bring a gun with her. She had been living out in the wasteland for months, how is it that she still wasn’t used to packing heat? Her other option was to retreat back into her hotel room and face the chance of more, possibly worse, nightmares. Would one drink with Mayor Hancock really be that bad of an idea? Sure, he _did_ kill a guy within the first few seconds she had known him, but that was just to help her out of a bind. Plus Nick seemed to think he was alright, which meant he probably was.

The sudden crash and clatter of someone upsetting a trash can in the alley nearest her made up her mind for her. She yelped and hurried across the street. “Uh, Mayor Hancock?” she called.

At the sound of his name the ghoul turned to her, waiting for her to catch up with him. She took a moment to catch her breath before she said, “On second thought, I wouldn’t mind one drink, if the offer still stands, of course. But I’ll pay for it! It’s the least I can do for you after you helped me earlier.”

The marred corners of his mouth pulled up into a smile and Phoebe’s face felt warm again. Was she coming down with something? “It sure does,” he said, “and you can just call me Hancock, I’m not much for formalities.”

“Right, you can just call me Phoebe, too.”

His smile grew wider. “Phoebe, a pretty name for a pretty face,” he said and the heat spread up to her ears. Okay, maybe she wasn’t getting sick. He sidled up to the door of the bar and held it open for her. “After you.”

She thanked him and stepped inside. A quick look around reminded her that this used to be an entrance to the underground train system. A peculiar place to build a bar. In front of the doorway to the top of the stairs stood a ghoul smartly dressed in a tuxedo and matching black hat. Phoebe figured he must be the bouncer.

Hancock shot the ghoul a greeting and he grunted a reply, shuffling aside to let them pass through. Phoebe let Hancock take the lead as they walked down the stairs, quickly raking her fingers through her hair when she was sure he wasn’t looking. When they reached the landing Phoebe looked about in amazement.

What was once a subway platform was now a full fledged bar with a wood floor laid out over the tracks. Walls made of plywood and sheet metal blocked off the rest of the tunnel on either side. In the far left corner sat an empty stage made from a broken slab of concrete. To the right of the stage, a Mister Handy sporting a bowler hat manned the taps. Lights were strung across the ceiling and a menagerie of furniture dotted the floor. The place was packed with the people who had occupied the square earlier. Judging by their good spirits, it seemed they had already indulged in Sammy’s farewell round, and another after that.

Hancock walked into the throng, reciprocating greetings, throwing jibes and clapping a person or two on the back. Phoebe hurried to keep up so she wouldn’t lose sight of him. They approached the bar and two patrons hopped from their seats, offering them to the mayor and his plus one.

The Mister Handy chugged over as they took their seats. “Evenin’, Mayor,” he growled, “what’ll it be?”

“I’ll have my usual, Chuck.”

The robot swiveled an ocular receptor in Phoebe’s direction. “What about you?”

“I’m, uh, not sure what the options are,” Phoebe muttered.

“Well, there’s always what’s left over in the mop pail,” the Mister Handy said bluntly.

“Easy now,” Hancock cut in, “she’ll have the same as me.”

The bartender floated away to prepare whatever it was they were going to be drinking just as a woman in a dazzling red dress stepped up on the stage. She tapped the microphone and the clamor immediately died down. Jazz music poured from the speaker next to the stage and she swayed with the melody as she began to sing.

“Took a walk

Out in the fens

Had a talk with a man about some chems

He asked me what’s your flavor

I said I need a favor

I’m a little short on caps but

I’m a good good neighbor…”

The robot bartender returned with their drinks, breaking Phoebe from the singer’s enchantment. He set them down without another word and hovered away to take someone else’s order. Phoebe squinted at the clear brown liquid in her glass.

“Rum and Nuka,” Hancock said, taking a swig of his own drink. “From Charlie’s good stock, better than the watered down beer he usually likes to serve.”

“I’m sure it’s better than mop water.” Phoebe took a sip and tried to keep her face from scrunching up. Charlie hadn’t balanced the rum and Nuka-Cola all that well and it burned a bit as it went down. Hancock didn’t seem to mind his, though perhaps strong liquor didn’t bother ghouls so much, or she was just a big baby.

“We can shake it up a little

We can kick it up a notch

We can put it on the griddle

Better get it while it’s hot…”

“She’s a pretty amazing singer,” Phoebe croaked through the after taste of her drink.

Hancock chuckled. “Yeah, Magnolia’s got quite the gift. Still amazed Chuck managed to get her to perform here of all places.” He drummed his fingers on the countertop along to the beat. “Speaking of which, how’s the town been treatin’ ya so far?” he asked.

“Well enough,” Phoebe said. “I haven’t really ventured beyond the Memory Den and the hotel, though. No one’s tried to hustle me again, so that’s something.”

“Well that’s good to hear,” he said. “Too bad about Finn, though. Gonna miss him next super mutant attack rolls around. Oh well.”

Phoebe whipped her head to look at him. “You mean he was important?” She would feel awful if the man the mayor had killed for her was a key member of the town’s security team.

“No no, nothing like that, doll. It’s just good to have more guns than the muties is all. Shouldn’t be hard to replace him, though.”

“Oh, I see,” Phoebe said. She took another sip of her drink and regretted it. She should have gone with the mop water. “So, what’s your story?” she said through another cough.

Hancock grinned. “My favourite subject. I came to this town about… a decade ago? Had a smooth set of skin back then,” he said absentmindedly rubbing his chin. “While I was busy making myself a pillar of this community, I would go on these, like, wild tears.” Phoebe’s eyebrows shot up and Hancock shrugged. “I was young.

“Any chems I could find, the more exotic, the better. Finally found this experimental radiation drug. Only one of its kind left, and only one hit.”

Phoebe’s eyes widened. “You didn’t take it, did you?”

Hancock choked on his drink and she pulled a napkin from the dispenser on the bar. She handed him one and he wiped his mouth and dabbed at the frills of his dress shirt. Once he was able to breathe normally again he looked to Phoebe, who was patiently waiting for his answer. “Seriously? Take a good look at me and you’ll know the answer to that question.”

Her jaw dropped. “But, what if it had killed you?”

He shrugged. “I like to think of Death as the ultimate drug trip. When it happens, I’ll be too busy enjoying it to have regrets,” he said flatly, downing what was left of his drink and ordering another one.

 _Oh dear, I hit a nerve,_ Phoebe thought. She never had much of an affinity for drugs. She was afraid to even take pain pills for headaches let alone shooting herself up with something that could easily kill her. Then again, people all have their own ways of dealing with their demons. Maybe Hancock’s idea of coping was chasing that illusive high. She thought of the months Nate spent after he had gotten home from Alaska, tipping back beers and sucking on cigarettes. Dissociating until all was left was a sad husk of the man she used to know.  

The song came to an end and the patrons around them erupted in applause, Phoebe and Hancock clapped along with them. Magnolia bobbed her head, her black hair falling like a shimmering curtain over her face then pulling back again as she looked up, smiling. “It’s always a good time in Goodneighbor, isn’t it? Hope you’re having one.”

“Beautiful as always, Mags,” Charlie crooned. The singer tossed back a playful flirt before diving into another song.

“Oh man, the high was so worth it, though,”Hancock continued as if trying to lighten the mood. “Yeah I’m living with the side effects, but hey, what’s not to love about immortality?”

“You’re immortal?”

“Well… not exactly. Ghouls just age really, really slow. Something about the rads maybe? Who knows?”

The bartender returned with fresh drinks for the both of them. Phoebe hadn’t even noticed that he had taken hers away. She took a cautious sip and found it went down a lot easier. Guess she wasn’t as good at hiding her funny faces as she thought.

Hancock took a gulp of his drink.“So what about you, Sister? How’d a sweet thing like you end up in my hole in the wall with the good detective?”

Phoebe swirled her glass and watched the two ice cubes race each other. “It’s kind of a long story.”

“Well I’m always up for those, so long as the storyteller is.”

Phoebe nodded and took another swallow from her glass. “Alright, guess I should start at the beginning, then.”

She told him just about everything that had happened until today. How she was unwittingly frozen for over two centuries, how her husband had been murdered and their baby ripped from his arms. She told him about helping Preston Garvey out in Concord and how she suddenly wound up becoming the general of the Minutemen. Being cooped up at the Castle all winter instead of looking for her son, only just getting into the search very recently after making it to Diamond City and rescuing Nick from vault 114. How Kellogg’s cyborg brain brought her to the Memory Den. All the while Hancock sat with his chin resting on his hand, nodding along. Only making small comments once or twice.

Once she had started talking, she couldn’t stop. Everything had been so much to bear and she hadn’t really had anyone to talk to about it all since she had said goodbye to Preston in Sanctuary. “And now I have to find this runaway scientist who’s hiding in the most irradiated place in the Commonwealth,” she blithered, taking another swig from drink number… she lost track of how many drinks she’d had. “Nick and Dr. Amari said that the best approach would be to go in wearing power armour. Power armour? Are you kidding me? I used to spend my days alternating from an office building to the court house, what makes anyone think I have the training to use something like that? The first time I tried in Concord, I fell off the museum roof and got tossed around by a deathclaw. A big stinking deathclaw! If Preston wasn’t there to help me, I’d be very very dead right now.”

“Damn, that’s a lot of shit to go through,” Hancock said.

“And the worst of it is,” she cried throwing her hands up, “is that I don’t even know if I’ll actually be able to find him! He went to the Glowing Sea of all places, _and_ the Institute has a hit on him. There’s a very good chance that this Virgil person is dead and I’ll never be able to save Shaun.”

Shaun. The thought of him brought her back to Kellogg’s last memory of him. He looked to be about ten years old then. Ten years. So much time had passed that if she somehow _did_ manage to find him he wouldn’t remember her at all. She would be a stranger to him.

Hancock leaned down to get a look at her face. “You okay?” he asked. His forehead crinkled with concern. Phoebe blinked, she hadn’t realized she was silent for so long. Charlie floated over once again and Hancock waved him off.

“It’s just,” she sighed, “I don’t know if any of what I’m doing will amount to anything. What if the Minutemen fall apart under my command? It’s not like I have the know how to be a good leader. And,” she paused. A lump grew in her throat and her eyes began to sting. “And what if… what if I do find Shaun, and he doesn’t want me? I’ve only been present for the first two months of his life. He’s ten now. _Ten._ And now there’s this “Father” character… what if they just gave him to complete strangers and had him believe they’re his real parents? There’s a good chance he doesn’t even know I exist. Oh god, what if I’ve lost him completely?”

The lump grew bigger, preventing her from saying anything else. Warm tears tracked down her cheeks and she bent her head to hide her face behind her hair. She blindly fumbled with the napkin dispenser again. A hand rested over top of hers, stopping her fingers from moving. The dull sound of a napkin being pulled through the slot could be heard, then another hand pressed the napkin into hers. The touches were very light and fleeting, but she could tell they were the scarred hands of a ghoul.

She brought the napkin to her face, dabbing at her eyes and blowing her nose. Once her face was temporarily dried, Hancock pushed a can of purified water in front of her. He must have ordered it when she wasn’t aware. She cracked the can open and drank a few swallows. When she had finished, she pushed her hair back and slowly let out a deep breath. Heat returned to her cheeks, but this time it stemmed from embarrassment.

“I’m sorry,” she said quietly. “I got a little carried away. I didn’t mean to dump all of that on you.”

Hancock shook his head. “You don’t gotta apologize for anything, Pheebs. Your world’s been turned upside down and shook all to hell. I say you deserve to get tipsy and unload some of that baggage for a bit. The fact that you haven’t given up and just let the wasteland take you says a lot about the kind of person you are.”

She wiped another tear away. “What kind of person am I?”

He smiled at her, a genuine smile. One that reached his dark eyes and didn’t make her feel like she was being pitied. That he wasn’t going to pat her hand and tell her how silly she’s being. “You’re the type of person that doesn’t easily give up. No matter how hard or scary shit gets. Hell, you managed to track down and kill Conrad Kellogg, the biggest, meanest waste of skin in the ‘Wealth. That right there says a lot.”

Phoebe looked down at the crumpled napkin in her hands.

“And this Glowing Sea trip of yours, yeah it sounds like a long shot, but it’s something, right? There’s still hope and sometimes that’s all ya need. Hope that this Virgil guy’s still kicking around, that you got what it takes to heep the Minutemen from falling in on itself again. That somewhere there’s a boy waiting for his mom to bring him home.”

Phoebe smiled, clearing another wave of tears. “You really are quite the motivational speaker.”

He spread out his arms. “Hey, it’s why I run this shit show,” he said with a grin.

“Thank you, though. Really,” she breathed. “It was something I needed to hear.”

“Just remember not to sell yourself short. You’ve been through and done a lot of crazy stuff that seems pretty damn impossible and you’re gonna do even more, Sunshine.”

 _Sunshine, did he just give me a nickname?_ Phoebe blushed, her insides feeling warm and fuzzy, or had they always felt like this? She had been drinking after all. _Doesn’t matter,_ she thought, _I like the name._ Her eyes widened when she looked up at the ceramic wall clock that read six in the morning. “Is that really the time?”

Hancock followed her gaze. “Nah, that clock’s slower than hell. It’d be a bit closer to eight.”

“ _Eight?”_ Had that much time really gone by? She looked around the bar and realized that it was only a fraction full of the people that had occupied the place when they first came in. She didn’t even notice Magnolia had finished singing and went home for the night. Her and Nick were supposed to meet up by now and figure out a plan for the Glowing Sea. “Gosh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to natter on this long,” she said, sliding from the barstool.

As soon as she was on her feet, her head swam and she swayed. She felt herself falling backward, but her body refused to react fast enough. Her back fell against something and hands caught her by the elbows. She looked over her shoulder and came face to face with the mayor.

“Take it easy, Sister, you had a few,” he joked. They stood there like that, lost in each other’s gaze, not bothering to move.

“If it’s all the same to you,” Charlie grumped from behind the counter, “I’d like to close the place down for at least five minutes before we open again.”

Phoebe tore her eyes from Hancock’s and cleared her throat. “I should… probably get going now.”

“Sure thing, I’ll, uh, walk you out.” He said, shaking his head like it was full of cotton. He called back to the barman. “Send the bill to the statehouse, Chuck.”

Phoebe turned to look at him. “No, I said I was paying.”

Hancock shook his head again. “Nope, you haven’t been here a whole twenty-four hours yet, so you’re still a guest. Meaning I pay the tab.”

“You just made that up,” she said, narrowing her eyes.

He laughed, his chest reverberating against her back. “Now what kind of politician would I be if I made up rules on the fly? C’mon, let’s get you back to the Rex.”

He draped her arm across his shoulders and helped her navigate up the stairs. The morning sun burned her eyes, sending throbs straight through to her brain and against her skull. They crossed the square to the hotel, passing the spot that was earlier stained with blood now thoroughly scrubbed clean. The double doors to the hotel swung open and out came Nick Valentine looking rather disheveled. His yellow eyes fell on Phoebe and Hancock and his shoulders relaxed slightly.

“Jesus, doll, you had me worried for a second,” he said. He registered the fact that she was being propped up by the mayor and raised a brow. “Care to explain to me what the hell I missed?”

“Ain’t nothin’ to worry over, Nicky,” Hancock said. “Just a few late night drinks, swapping battle stories is all.”

“I think you mean early morning.”

Phoebe felt Hancock’s shoulders raise in a shrug. “So we lost track of time for a spell, who hasn’t these days?”

“Right,” Nick said. “Well, kid, looks like you’re in need of an actual rest. How about we regroup tomorrow?”

Phoebe nodded rubbing her temple. As daunting as sleep still seemed, she really wasn’t in the right mind for making a game plan either. Hancock handed her off to Nick while she thanked him again.

“Hey, it was no problem,” he replied with a big smile. "I’ll always be kicking around here if you ever need to blow off some steam.”

She flashed him back a smile of her own. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Best of luck finding your boy,” he said and turned to leave.

Phoebe and Nick watched as he crossed over to the statehouse. Nick sighed like an exasperated parent. “Hancock’s mostly known by folks as some junked up trouble maker, but he does have virtues amongst the vices.” He looked down at Phoebe, who was still watching the door the mayor had just disappeared behind. “You doing alright, kid?”

She looked up at him and smiled. “Yeah, I think I’m going to be okay.”

  


 

**Author's Note:**

> This is a scene I really wanted to write, but it didn't fit in the fic I'm planning. This is my first time writing and sharing fan fiction and would love the feedback!


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